


A Different Kind of Sacrifice

by CG2



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 07:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19313548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CG2/pseuds/CG2
Summary: It is only when a scream tears itself out of his throat that you jolt, turning to stare in horror as your only living ally in this trial falls to the ground, pain so fierce overtaking him that he fails to even catch himself.Were it any other survivor, perhaps you wouldn’t have even bothered. Perhaps you would have turned with only slight guilt in mind, knowing you couldn’t have done anything about it anyway, and ran towards the safety of the campfire. But this wasn’t any other survivor.And you just can't bring yourself to leave him behind.





	A Different Kind of Sacrifice

The horrid screams of the second sacrifice echo in the dry, night air of the Coldwind Farm. Perhaps you are lucky they do not belong to you or the groaning, limping man beside you. Perhaps the fact that you are still alive only implies more horrific things in store for you.

But regardless, there is a sense of guilt that accompanies the shameful relief you feel as you hear a final scream of agony far, far away. Some part of you reminds you that relief is a foolish thing to feel in this place. 

The sound of a sturdy lever being shoved downwards snaps you back to reality as you turn to face the exit gate. Dwight’s panicked eyes meet yours as he glances in your direction before settling his gaze in the other direction, looking this way and that for any signs of danger. 

It was silly how heavily you all relied on your sight when almost every single killer’s presence was instead revealed through sound. And all too quickly, the thundering sound of a heavy heartbeat fills your ears. 

You hear the injured man behind you gasp in fear, pressing down harder on the lever as if to prompt the exit gate to open faster, but to no avail. The Nightmare is controlled. There is always a set time for the exit gates to open. The game wouldn’t be “fair” otherwise. Fair by the Entity’s standards, of course. 

Grimacing, you turn once more to check on the status of the exit gate. Three red bulbs flicker to life at the moment you turn, indicating that freedom is right around the corner. The brief sense of hope that rushes through you is almost instantaneously squashed by the sound of heavy footsteps far too near for your liking. 

The ground shakes as the blaring sirens of the exit gates sound, piercing the air and illuminating the area around you with a haunting, red tint. The hairs on the back of your neck rise as you feel the killer’s presence mere meters behind you. Bolting the instant that the creaking sound of the exit gates fills the air, you fail to notice Dwight stumble and turn to stare wide eyed at the cleaver raised above him, ready to strike.

It is only when a scream tears itself out of his throat that you jolt, turning to stare in horror as your only living ally in this trial falls to the ground, pain so fierce overtaking him that he fails to even catch himself. 

Were it any other survivor, perhaps you wouldn’t have even bothered. Perhaps you would have turned with only slight guilt in mind, knowing you couldn’t have done anything about it anyway, and ran towards the safety of the campfire. But this wasn’t any other survivor.

This was Dwight Fairfield. Someone you had come to trust unconditionally, chatting and laughing away while reveling in the warmth of the campfire, patching each other up and reassuring each other during the roughest times. This was the person who had suicide saved you countless times, and the same person you had made sure to repay in the same fashion. You knew from the moment you watched him fall that you could not leave him. 

Because you knew had your roles been reversed, he would have done the same for you.   
With your heart beating furiously in your chest, and your legs trembling wildly, you stand your ground and attempt to stare down the hulk of a man now observing you curiously.

Your hesitance to flee has caught him off guard, and he has no problem showing it. A slight tilt of his head confirms his curiosity, and suddenly he takes a step towards Dwight and reaches his hand down to grab him-

“Stop!” you screech before you can stop yourself, holding a hand open defensively in what you first believe to be a futile attempt to discourage the Trapper from dragging your closest friend away.

To your complete surprise, your panicked cry does wonders, and the hand reaching for the dying Dwight stops in its advances, his head tilting up to question you silently. 

Letting your hand slowly drop, you lower the flashlight grasped tightly in your left hand onto the ground, cautiously raising yourself up before taking a step towards the Killer. 

Every bone in your body screams at your stupidity, urging you to turn back and run before it is too late. But within your mind, your calculations assure you. The beast before you cannot sacrifice the both of you. 

Though he has come out mostly victorious, he has not played well enough to catch all four of his prey. You and Dwight are far too close to the exit gate for that, and if he is to take you, there will not be enough time to return and successfully capture Dwight as well. 

With this thought in mind, you stare down the killer as you approach, trying your best to straighten your back and seem just slightly less insignificant in his unnerving presence. You think he finds this small attempt at confidence amusing, as a glint in his eye presses you to take another step forward. 

At this point, Dwight has managed to regain his sense enough to look up from the ground, confusion and fear evident on his face. You meet his gaze with an intense stare, signaling with your eyes for him to move. His pupils seem to further shrink as he slightly turns his head to observe the killer standing possessively over him. He glances back at you with a frown and a slight shake of his head. 

You furrow your eyebrows and attempt to give him the hardest glare you have ever adorned on your face. You notice the faint hurt in his eyes as he takes in your expression and the unmistakable guilt as he turns his face away to stare dejectedly at the ground. Finally, you see him shakily place a hand before him and drag himself slightly forward.

The Trapper tenses at this this, mask snapping back down to stare at the crawling survivor before turning back to you. You take a large step in his direction in order to calm the monster in front of you. 

He seems to relax at this, shoulders dipping down slightly as he readjusts the bloody cleaver in his hands. Making sure to take a step for every foot Dwight manages to crawl closer towards freedom, you observe his form for any hints of trickery. 

There are none. He waits patiently for you to approach him, and makes no moves to pick up the dying survivor who finally manages to crawl his way past the boundary and onto the path towards the twinkling campfire in the distance. 

Dwight gives only one last look of regret, a blatant “I’m sorry, I’ll pay you back” evident on his features as he disappears into the mist just outside of the exit. 

Leaving you entirely alone with the massive beast less than a meter from you. You realize now how hopeless it would be to attempt to run from the painful fate that awaits you. You realize now how willingly you have sealed your doom.

Not that you regret it. But you are still filled with fear. The thought of death has slowly lost its terror after countless encounters with it, but the thought of pain brings fresh panic with it every time it comes around. Turning back to face the Trapper’s direction, you fail to meet his intense gaze still filled with curiosity. 

After a significant amount of time studying the ground, you force yourself to look upwards, staring back at him. His being radiates danger and the heartbeat is still unbearably loud in your ears, but in his eyes you see something… different. Something you have not seen before. 

With a sigh, you tear your gaze away once more, unable to hold it. With drooped shoulders and a hanging head, you begin to walk, slowly inching further and further away from the freedom waiting just behind you. 

You don’t look at him as you pass him, entering the trial once more and feeling another hot gush of air upon your face. Too late to turn back now. 

Your eyes spot a hook not too far away, hanging menacingly in the air. It takes all of your will to shakily walk up to it, and all the while you are keenly aware of the footsteps that follow you. 

At last, you reach your final destination. With a heavy finality, you stop right in front of the hook, staring at the wood before you with an empty gaze. This is going to hurt. Its best to just get it over with.

Unable to withhold another sigh, your shoulders sag further as you lean forward and rest your forehead against the dirty base of the hook, completely accepting your fate as your eyes slide closed. To hell with it.

You’d see Dwight at the campfire soon enough.  
He always made things better.

You feel the terrifying presence stop next to you and dimly wonder why the monster is taking his sweet time. Perhaps he is teasing you, drawing out your suffering and anxiety, but something tells you if it had been just that he would have gotten bored already. You can’t help the bitter frown that crosses your face as you open your eyes to glance at him, head still pressed flat against the very object that would kill you in mere moments. 

His stance gives you pause. The cleaver rests limply in his hold and his head has tilted even further to show his growing curiosity. His shoulders are strangely relaxed, and the predatory way he usually holds himself is nowhere to be seen. From what you can see of his hidden eyes, they gleam with nothing but interest. 

They catch you off guard as well, as you are so used to seeing nothing but murderous intent in them, a will to cause pain and suffering to all those he sets his sights on. But no such thing is present now. 

You don’t move your head or your body as you observe him, waiting patiently for him to finally take the sacrifice he has been offered. You expect at any moment for him to raise his cleaver and strike, knowing that even if you try to run you won’t be able to get away. 

The thought of unbearable pain makes you wince subconsciously as you close your eyes once more to try to distract yourself. God, he’s _really_ taking his sweet time. 

It is almost maddening, waiting for the end. You know it is coming, you _know_. How cruel it is of him to draw this out for so long. To give you the slightest hints of hope. It sucks. You find yourself hating him more and more as the moments pass, grimacing as you realize how badly you wish for the end to finally come. 

But he does not move. Fed up, you open your eyes, ready to glare at him when you freeze. 

You hadn’t heard him move. How did he get so close? The Trapper’s dirtied mask rests inches from your face, his body leaning forward to lower himself to your height.   
You don’t dare to breath as you feel his hot breath wash over you, the sound of heavy breathing obscured by his mask filling your ears. 

For the first time, you clearly see his dark eyes as they intensely observe you. Perhaps he is seeing yours for the first time as well. You have never been so close to a killer. Every single time you’d gotten anywhere near the distance you currently hold with him with another killer has been after a frighteningly fatal mistake that has left you vulnerable to their murderous hands. That did not exclude the monster standing before you.

At that thought, he raises a bloodied hand towards you, making you violently flinch. He pauses for a moment before lowering it onto your shoulder. You watch his hand move, completely in awe. You fail to comprehend the heavy yet gentle touch on your shoulder, eyes so wide you fear they will pop out of your head.

_What the hell?_

You stare back at the killer before you with the question clear in your eyes. His doesn’t respond, taking a moment to blink casually. You are at a loss for words and actions. 

_What is happening?_   
Before you can do anything at all, the large hand on your shoulder moves to silently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, cupping your burning cheek in the process. 

You blush furiously at the action, unable to break your eyes way from his now. 

What the _fuck_ is happening?

And just like that, he rises to his full height once more, retracting his hand from your face. You brace yourself as he stands, knowing that the time for games has finally ended and that the end of your life is at hand. 

But with a sigh and a final glance in your direction, he suddenly turns away from you and stalks off. Still frozen, you stand unmoving as he leaves. 

You don’t know how long you are there, staring into the corn long after his figure has disappeared into it. Finally, you manage to blink and turn to look at the exit gate. 

This isn’t a trick. 

Watching the corn, you turn and walk back towards the exit gate, the campfire still flickering invitingly in the distance. Reaching the threshold once more, you take in the sight and feel of freedom. 

You can’t for the life of you understand what had just happened. You know the Trapper will get punished for this. Killers don’t just _spare_ survivors like that. He had earned his three sacrifices. He should have gotten them.

And yet he had let you go. And for what?   
What reason? Perhaps the show of bravery?   
Perhaps the sacrifice you made for your fellow survivor had awoken something in him? 

You pondered that for a moment.   
Was it…

Empathy?

You freeze, unconsciously moving a hand to your chin as you stand deep in thought.   
Sure, your behavior had definitely peaked his interest, but his refusal to kill you after you had sacrificed yourself for another was deeply confusing.

And simultaneously heart warming. Perhaps it _had_ been empathy.   
The ability to feel deep emotional pain, the distinct decision to sacrifice oneself.   
Perhaps he had previously faced a similar decision.   
Somehow, sometime…  
In another life.

You think that you could be looking too deep into this, but a part of you clings dearly to the thought that maybe, just maybe…

Some part of the Trapper is still human. This is evidence enough, is it not? Still lost in thought, you fail to notice the shadow watching you from deep within the rotten cornfields as you step past the barrier, feet dragging you for the millionth time towards the flickering light far, far away.

**Author's Note:**

> -suicide save gang-
> 
> Hope it was decent. :)


End file.
